


The Secrets We Keep

by orphan_account



Series: Only Time Can Tell [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drug Mentions, F/M, M/M, Multi, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester meets Castiel Novak in his senior year of college. He's graduating in May (when Sam graduates high school), sending Sam off to Stanford and doing what? He has no idea. He's about to find out that life never turns out like it's expected to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The TA and the Research Assistant

**Blocked Number:** _Tonight. 7. Don't be late._

Dean had read the text message over a dozen times since he received it that morning. He looked at his watch 6:30. 

 **Blocked Number:** _Tonight. 7. Don't be late._

Dean sighed and thumbed the message closed, looking back at the notes he was supposed to be modifying. A quiet gravely voice came over his shoulder,

"Crowley does not like students who text in class."

Dean startled and turned his head slowly to the side. He met humorous deep blue eyes. He grinned winningly. 

"Well, Crowley likes me and I know this lesson backwards and forwards. Besides, who do you think pulled all the notes?"

Blue eyes alighted with recognition and swept over his face. 

"Oh. You're Dean. You're the TA."

Dean turned around all the way and stuck out his hand,

"Dean Winchester. Crowley's TA."

The sex-haired, blue eyed god behind him grasped his hand,

"Castiel Novak. Crowley's research assistant. It's nice to meet you."

Dean's eyebrows crawled towards his hairline.

"Castiel? That's an interesting name. An angel, right?"

Castiel chuckled,

"Yes. My mother was quite the religious study, as was the entirety of her family. I have family members named after archangels, including Uriel."

"Uriel. Now that, is an unfortunate namesake."

"Uriel, my uncle, is older. He is very stern. You would not get away with teasing him about it."

Dean chuckled. They sat in charged silence for a moment until Crowley dismissed the class and the younger students milled about them.

"Dean. Castiel. Come down here, boys."

Dean blushed and broke eye contact. He crammed his things in his bag before following the older male down the lecture hall stairs.

"Hello, boys. I'd do introductions but it appears you already have. You both already know that this course is a two semester course. So it looks like the three of us, mainly the two of you, will be working closely together over the next ten or so months. Because there's not a lot of extra room in the linguistics offices, Dean, you can move an extra desk into Castiel's office and work from there. Will that be a problem?"

Dean shook his head. 

"I'm used to small spaces. It'll be fine."

"Good. Well, there's nothing for you boys to do tonight, what with it being the first day of class and all. Go home and I'll see both of you tomorrow. Ta."

Crowley turned and strode from the room with an air of finality. 

"I mean, are you alright with me taking over some of your office space? Did he even ask you?"

Dean turned to Castiel, who threw his head back with a full-throated laugh that made Dean want to laugh along.

"I do not believe Crowley would ever ask permission to do something. There is enough room in my office for us both. I do not mind. You can come move your desk in now if you like. I believe it is sitting in Crowley's main office at the moment."

Dean's green eyes, which had been bright with laughter, dulled and hid his emotions. He looked at his feet and spoke to the floor.

"I actually have somewhere I need to be in just a little bit. So I can't right now, but I will do that tomorrow."

Castiel tilted his head, wondering what had killed that light so quickly. 

"Tomorrow will be great, Dean." He started digging through the numerous pockets of his trench coat before he triumphantly held up a key. He handed it to Dean. "Here. It is the spare key I have for my office. You can use it tomorrow if I am not there."

Dean's eyes flicked back up to his and he smiled. Dean stuck the key in his pocket before pulling out his car keys. He held out his hand to Castiel, who gripped it again.

"It was nice to meet you, Cas. See ya tomorrow."

Dean turned and he was gone, leaving Castiel standing in the empty lecture hall.  _Cas?_ He normally did not like nicknames, something that came from being the youngest in the whole family, but he decided he didn't mind this one.

"Goodbye, Dean."

 


	2. Dean Winchester. Welcome to Hell.

Dean drove his beat-up old pick-up truck down the gravel driveway off of the highway. The engine's rumble echoed around him as he went through the tunnel that led to the warehouse. He pulled up next to Ruby's bike, parked the truck and shut off the engine. He pulled on his leather jacket and stepped out into the late July air. He looked at his watch before shoving his hands in his pockets and starting up the path to the warehouse entrance. 6:53.  
  
The large steel door slammed shut behind him as he crossed the threshold. It was eerily quiet. The warehouse was usually full of sounds: screams, crying, maniacal laughter. Not tonight. His footsteps sounded too loud on the concrete floor as he walked the maze of hallways. Dean rounded one last corner and suddenly had arms full of a petite girl with thick black hair. She smiled crookedly up at him.  
  
"Dean. I was just about to come looking for you."  
  
They untangled themselves and he looked down at Ruby. She was jittery: bouncing on her toes, wiggling her fingers, eyes darting back and forth. _Fucking of course._  
  
"Are you high? What the _hell_ , Ruby?"  
  
She waved her hands at him.  
  
"Dean, I'm fine. It's whatever. If you don't go find him, he'll come find you and he won't be happy. Big things are happening tonight, pretty boy. Big things."  
  
With that, she stumbled off down the hallway. _Big things? What the hell?_  He had no idea what she was talking about when she was sober let alone high as a kite. She was like Sam in that respect, always rambling about something over Dean's head. The thought of his little brother made him smile and then remember why he was there.

He looked down at his watch again. 6:58. _Shit._ He hurried along to the main "office" or playroom as it was referred to as. Then again, Alastair was one crazy son of a bitch. Dean took a deep breath before he knocked and opened the door. 7:00.  
  
His entrance was blocked by a burly man just a few inches shorter than Dean. The thick set man glared at him and crossed his arms. Dean raised an eyebrow and looked over the man's shoulder, clearing his throat. The man hunched over the desk looked up sharply, eyes flicking to the man by the fireplace, and grinned at Dean.  
  
"No. No. He's good. Let him in."  
  
The shorter man continued glaring but stepped out of Dean's way. Dean shot him a charming smirk, stepping into the room. Alastair stepped out from behind the desk and spread his hands.  
  
"Dean. So glad to see you could make it. Come, have a seat."  
  
Dean nodded and moved to go sit when the man by the fireplace spoke.  
  
"No. Stay standing."  
  
Dean froze. The man's voice was soft but held a cold edge. Both Dean and Alastair looked slowly over at him as he turned to face them. He ran cold eyes over Dean, who forced back a shiver.  
  
"So this is your infamous Dean Winchester, Alastair? Your trusted protégé? He doesn't look like much."  
  
Dean's brow crinkled as he looked back at Alastair, who looked unfazed.  
  
"He's a fairly average student. Of course he doesn't look like much. Put him in a room with someone, however, and he's very good at what he does. He learns quickly."  
  
The other man nodded.  
  
"Very well. Now, Dean, you may have a seat. We all shall."  
  
Alastair sat back behind his desk. The man who appeared to be running the show lounged in the larger chair in front of the desk. Dean sat stiffly in the remaining chair while the short, burly man stood by the door. Alastair broke their silence.  
  
"Dean, I know you have heard me and the others talk of a man who goes by the name of Lucifer. Now you've had the distinct pleasure of meeting him."  
  
Dean barely kept himself from gaping. _Fucking shit._ This was Lucifer? The Lucifer who ran the dirty, albeit small, criminal underground of Lawrence, Kansas? If he wasn't stuck before, he sure as hell was stuck now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these are so short. They should get longer as it goes but, then again, they may not.


End file.
